


Hers

by TheUltimateFanGirl7



Series: Prodigy Balance [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23334955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUltimateFanGirl7/pseuds/TheUltimateFanGirl7
Summary: Chaos' Prodigies always had a Balance. That was the rule. That was what maintained the equality. Everyone had a Balance. So why didn't Marinette?
Series: Prodigy Balance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678009
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Hers

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't think of anything to put here, so have a bad joke:
> 
> I went to an emotional wedding. Even the cake was in tiers.
> 
> Chow for now ~TheUltimateFanGirl7

Marinette Dupain-Cheng came into the world to a chorus of bird-song. At least, that’s what her mother would always tell her. Her papa used to argue that it wasn’t just the birds, no it was a whole host of angels. This is the point in the story where Marinette’s maman would always laugh gently and shake her head, running a hand through her daughter’s hair. These times, when she and her parents would just sit together in their home and relax together, were some of Marinette’s favorite memories. And even when she was old enough to realize and understand that the story was just that: a story, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Because they were memories of joy. Of happiness.

Bird-song was the inspiration of the first design she ever did. She knows because Papa had it framed and it hung in the dorner next to the lamp. It was a rather simple design, just a regular t-shirt, but it was breathtaking all the same. She’d used colored pencils to make it a gorgeous sky-blue and shadowed-smoke ombre, and a simple sketch of a bird sitting in a tree of music notes lay across the heart.

Maman would always insist it was when Marinette first drew that that they knew she was a Prodigy. She knew that story by heart, too. She had only just turned one, not even yet able to walk or speak, but she’d managed to pick up a pencil and design a masterpiece. Maman and Papa were so proud, they’d hung the design and never taken it down unless to polish the glass or frame.

Of course, it could have just been a fluke. But it wasn’t. She didn’t design much as a baby, being, well, a baby, but design she did. Even more so the older she got. By the time she was six and starting school, her parents had entire totes full of filled sketchbooks, loose napkins, old maps and flyers… whatever had been closest on hand when inspiration struck.

The only problem was her Balance. Or, rather, her lack of one. On her third birthday, they’d taken her in for official testing. While her designs convinced the officials that she was indeed one of Chaos’ Prodigies, they could not determine her Balance. They asked all the normal screening questions, they tested all of the previously recorded ones, everything not completely documented but still in the database, even a few that weren’t but doctors came up with on the fly. Nothing. Some even started questioning if her lack of Balance was her Balance. After all, no other Prodigy had ever not had a Balance, so therefore it was something that many others had that she did not, fitting the definition of a Balance.

They marked uncertain in her file, however, as she was only three, and told the Dupain-Chengs to watch as she grew older and alert them if a Balance was discovered.

Linebreak<>kaerbeniL

On her first day of school, little Marinette Dupain-Cheng arrived with her hair tied in pigtails using a set of beautiful blue ribbons. She wore the shirt that was her first design, her parents having commissioned an online store to make it for them, and a black skirt with matching tennis shoes. Adorned on her face was a smile so bright, the passers-by wondered if her Prodigy gift was smiling.

Sabine and Tom dropped her off at her classmate, said their goodbyes, and rushed home to open the bakery.

Marinette looked around her classroom with wide eyes. Her teacher was a young, pretty lady with blonde hair and acorn-brown eyes. Her class consisted of three blondes (all girls), a red-head (male), eight brunettes (five boys, three girls), two other noirettes (both male), and a boy with the most ridiculous shock of purple hair (but she later learned was naturally blonde). Only one student arrived after her - a dark-skinned boy with a green baseball cap clutched nervously in his hands.

Marinette learned that the blondes were Chloe, Aurore, and Blanca, the red-head Nathaniel, Claude, Alec, Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Felix, Allegra, Tulip, and Mouse (who had refused to introduce herself as anything else, and the teacher had simply smiled and said it was her choice) were the brunettes, Nicolas and Lucas were the noirettes, purple-head was named Julien (but had cheerfully insisted they call him cat, because he was going to chase after Mouse until she married him - Mme. just smiled indulgently at him), and the boy with the cap was named Nino. The teacher introduced herself as Mme. Noeth, American born but moved to France to improve her French, fell in love with the country, and stayed, dragging her husband and three children after her.

By the end of the day, it was determined that the Nathaniel’s were nothing alike, Chloe was a spoiled brat, and Nino had the same music interests as her, not to mention they were the only two biracial kids in the class. Also, Mouse hated Julien but that wasn’t stopping him.

When her parents arrived to pick her up, Marinette took one last look around the classroom: at the Nathaniels sitting in a corner together ignoring everybody else and all looking up and getting confused whenever someone yelled ‘Nathaniel’, at Lucas and Tulip - who turned out to be twins - playing blocks and giggling and occasionally yelling out ‘Nathaniel’, at Chloe sitting haughtily at her desk with her nose in the air and ignoring everybody else… She grinned. This year was going to be so much fun.

Linebreak<>kaerbeniL

This year was Not Fun (and the capitals were totally necessary in Marinette’s opinion).

She had turned seven a few weeks ago, and Maman and Papa had gotten her a bunch of sewing supplies and five whole new sketchbooks, so that was awesome. And Nino had gotten her a cool new set of pens. Nathaniel A (the red-head) had drawn her a picture of herself (Maman and Papa gushed over it, wondering if he was a Prodigy too, and then hung it next to the shirt design in the corner by the lamp). Her cake was strawberry (pink!!), and Papa baked her chocolate cupcakes to bring to school for her class.

What made the year Not Fun was when the school decided that the CP classes should attend a science fair held by the sixieme-quatrieme students. Mme. Noeth dragged them all across the street to the middle school’s gymnasium, and then stood in a corner and watched like a hawk as her students all separated and wandered around oohing and awing over the various projects.

Now you have to understand that Prodigies aren’t just skilled in one area. They have their Specialty, sure, but an painter cannot be as good without skill in drawing, an author fails without grammar, a singer without rhythm. What’s more, certain knowledge sets are required for certain skills. What painter has no knowledge of paints, of brushes, or canvas? What dancer has no knowledge of shoes, of costume, of music? What inventor has no knowledge of machinery, of electricity, of math?

As a designer, Marinette knew fabrics. She knew them quite intimately, even being only seven years of age. She also despised liars. A liar had almost taken her parent’s bakery from them, only the discovery of the lies had saved them. So it should come as no surprise that, just a short while after arriving, she was found glaring at a project displaying blatant lies (to her, at least) about fabrics. The kid who’s project it was, observed her glare and meandered on over to shoo the little pest away from his project (which was sure to win first prize, he just knew it!).

All chatter in the gym stopped as everyone turned to watch this tiny girl scream at the rather bulky boy about all the lies in his project. She tore into him, into his project, and her words were clearly affecting, and amusing, their audience. Once she had finished tearing apart the lies, she began yelling:

“How could you! How could you destroy the sanctity of fabrics! What did they ever do to you! Your lies are a dishonor! How dare you!”

And on and on it went. At some point, she had started crying, and tears streamed down her face as she screamed at him.

At first, he looked rather taken aback. But then, he started subtly looking around. He noticed how the audience, how the judges, nodded along to her words, beginning to mutter about the lies he had attempted to pass as truth. He slowly grew angry and glared at her. This little pest had the audacity to yell at him, to call him out for lying, to take away his first place ribbon. That would not do. He would not let that stand. In his anger, he forgot about the audience. And he slapped her. Her head snapped to the side, and she stood like that blinking for a minute, before letting out a sob and launching at him. The thing is, children at that age tend to react to violence with violence. He slapped her, her instincts told her to punch him in retaliation.

She bounced off.

Everyone watched wide-eyed as this little seven year old, hair tied in pigtails, dressed in a pink dress and blue tennis shoes, sobbed and screamed and babbled incoherently and pushed against nothing before giving up and just banging her fists on air.

After a few minutes of this, the adults in the room snapped out of it and rushed over. Mme. Noeth gathered her class, minus Marinette, to take them back to their own school. Several teachers herded the other students in the room out, ushering them back to their own classes. Two came over to pull Marinette away from The Idiot and comfort her, while another dragged The Idiot off to the principal’s office.

By the time Marinette had calmed down and her tears had dried, her parents had arrived to take her home.

Linebreak<>kaerbeniL

There was a lot of processing after that. Paperwork had to be filled out. Lots of it. Multiple times. And tests had to be run. There were no previous documentations of whatever her Balance was, so they had to figure out the limits.

She could not physically harm another person. That was her Balance. Even at that young age, she knew it could, knew it would cause problems down the line. But she didn’t care, because this Balance? It was hers.


End file.
